


Not with a bang, but with a crash

by orphan_account



Category: Bandom, My Chemical Romance
Genre: Alternate Universe - Boarding School, Alternate Universe - I'm Not Okay Video, Angst, Artsy gerard, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Kinda, M/M, More characters/ships/maybe warnings to be added later when I get around to writing more, Most of it is tired drunk rambles from 3 am, Roommates, Suicide, but idgaf, frank does photography, i guess
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-11
Updated: 2017-11-10
Packaged: 2019-01-31 17:32:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,669
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12686937
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: When Gerard, a broken boy who probably can't be fixed, collides with Frank, a photographer who didn't know what he was missing until it left him, their lives will change, but what will happen when they become roommates at their boarding school, but don't remember each other?  Hair dye, tattoos, piercings, and no haircuts for three months can really change a person, so they don't remember that they've met before.  Maybe if Frank had remembered from the beginning, he could've saved Gerard, but now maybe he's the one who needs saving.





	1. Worlds Collide

**Author's Note:**

> TW for: Suicidal thoughts/self hatred, angsty feelings, and brief references to self-harm. Stay safe, guys!

Frank POV

His world began, not with a bang, but with a crash. As worlds collided, stars burst into each other, planets aligned, and Frank Iero ran into a random guy on the street.

Later, he'd look back and wonder, what had he done to deserve Gerard? Towards the middle, that question was full of self-loathing and regret, that he hadn't known to snap his walls up as hard as he could and protect himself, but after the end, it would change into a glowing warmth, and incredible joy that he'd had the privilege of knowing such an extraordinary person. Frank wasn't anyone special, although maybe he was special simply by virtue of knowing Gee. But during that summer, in the part of his life he began to think of as before, he was just ordinary. In September, he would head off to his senior year at a new school to begin a new life, but for the summer he was stuck with nothing to do. 

On the first Monday after school had ended, he was strolling down the bustling street back to the subway station, holding his coffee in one hand and hurriedly scrawling a reminder to himself to get his newest batch of photos developed the next day on his hand when he collided with something, or rather, someone. He looked up from his hand, dropping his pen to see a gorgeous boy with short dyed white hair and hollow eyes in a hoodie open over a dark t-shirt staring at him with a distant expression, like he wasn't really there on the street, but wherever he was in his mind wasn't exactly a happy place. 

Suddenly, Frank's hand jerked and his coffee flew out of his grasp, and right into the boy. The dark liquid splattered all over him, bringing him back to Earth in a rude awakening. For a moment, Frank stood there in shock, and then he snapped into action. "Oh my god, I'm so sorry," he explained. "I totally wasn't paying attention."

"It's okay," the boy said quietly, leaning down to pick up what Frank thought was a sketchbook that had fallen when they ran into each other. Miraculously, there wasn't a single drop of coffee on it, but the boy was soaked, especially his hoodie.

"Here, let me get your hoodie off for you," Frank said, reaching forward.

"Oh, it's fine," the boy quickly assured him, hunching forward.

"No, let me help," Frank insisted, and started to pull the jacket down over the boy's shoulders, getting it totally off of one arm, before he dropped the hoodie and gasped. Oh god. All up the insides of his pale arms, there were scars, puckered and pink. Some were merely white lines, old ones that had faded over the years, some were pink and healing, more recent, and some looked like they had been made yesterday, an angry red. Frank couldn't believe his eyes. There were so . . . many. Maybe they were from an accident when he was younger? Or maybe he had had surgery or something? His brain desperately searched for excuses, but he couldn't find any answer other than the glaringly obvious one. He stared for several seconds, until the boy snatched the jacket back and yanked it on, quickly turning on his heel and hurrying in the opposite direction, not stopping to glance back at Frank.

He stayed frozen for a moment, then started to run after the boy, but he turned a corner and disappeared into the mass of people. Frank stared after him for a while, letting the people flow around him like a river over a rock, but eventually he turned walked back to the subway stop, unable to shake the haunting image of the boy's empty eyes staring at him.

. . . . . . . . . . . .

Gerard POV  
Stupid. Stupid, worthless, careless, hopeless. The words churned in Gerard Way's mind as he hurried down the street to escape the beautiful, daydreaming boy. Before he'd run into him, Gerard had been staring at him subtly through the crowd, sneaking glances at him. The cropped black hair. The pale skin. The piercing eyes. Then he'd gotten distracted by a man begging on the street corner, looking disturbingly like Gerard's reflection. The same hollow, searching eyes. But the man knew what he was searching for, where Gerard had no clue.

Then he and the boy collided, it all went to hell. The boy was so sweet, trying to help him get his jacket off, but Gerard didn't want him to know. The boy looked too innocent and trusting and hopeful for Gerard to ruin it like that. He didn't want him to know that there were people out there who did unexplainable things because they just couldn't take it anymore. The hot coffee burned his skin a little, but he barely even felt it. He didn't feel much of anything these days. 

Gerard knew the second when the boy saw the scars. He saw the shock. Confusion. Hope that it wasn't what he thought it was. The realization that it was. Disgust. Pity. And then nothing, because that was when Gerard turned on his heel and fled into the masses.

It wasn't like it mattered, anyway. He would never see the boy again. At the end of the summer, he would go back to his boarding school and start the last chapter of his miserable, pathetic life. Gerard suddenly remembered why he'd come here in the first place, and hurried down the street towards the library. He had never been to this branch before, but the one near his house was closed for renovations, and this was the closest alternative. He climbed the imposing stone steps, and walked through the glass doors. It was almost empty, and Gerard almost smiled. That was exactly how he liked it. 

The librarian at the checkout desk eyed his wet hoodie distastefully, but didn't say anything. He didn't bother looking up at the sign above his head with directions, and chose a path at random. He continued on through the library in a twisting path, and finally decided on an unused corner of the nonfiction section. He settled in, placing his sketchbook on his lap and pulling the pencil out of the binding.

Gerard liked libraries, mostly because no one would bother him here. They simply saw a quiet boy focused on something, and everybody left him alone. 

He put in his earbuds to blast music on his phone, and started to sketch. The pencil lines stood out harshly against the paper, slowly forming slim shoulders, a toned body hidden by a t-shirt, dark hair swept to one side, laughing eyes, and a curved mouth, the features becoming the boy with the coffee. Gerard smiled a bit as he remembered the boy's kind and affable nature, but then he remembered the shock and disgust that he had tried and failed to disguise when he saw the cuts on his arms. Gerard let the corners of the drawing's mouth droop down, and furrowed the graphite brow. He darkened the eyes until the boy was pitying and disgusted. There. Now it was realistic. 

He kept drawing for hours, not seeing a single soul from his little hideout, until he figured it was time to go home. All through his train ride and the walk back home and the rest of the day, he couldn't seem to escape the visions of the boy.


	2. 20 questions and teddy bears

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Frank and Gerard meet, but they don't know that they're meeting again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW for: graphic description of self harm, self-hate/suicidal thoughts, angst. Stay safe!

Gerard POV  
Days bled into weeks bled into months, quite literally for Gerard, as he'd started cutting more and more frequently, until it was time for him to go back to school. As the summer had progressed, he'd found himself more and more reliant on his blade, as it was the only thing that made him feel like he was still human. He couldn't bring himself to care about much of anything, so he simply stuffed black skinny jeans and black t-shirts and lots and lots of hoodies into a suitcase along with his school uniform and boxed up all of his sketchbooks since freshman year, then got into the car with his apathetic parents to go to a deeper level of hell.

His parents' car dropped him off at the front entrance of his dorm. His brother was still packing, so he was coming in a few hours. His mother climbed out of the passenger seat, still hissing something at his dad. Gerard groaned to himself. He may have hated school, but at least for nine months a year, he didn’t have to deal with his mother’s constant screaming. “Bye, Mom,” he ground out, grimacing. 

He’d hoped to get away without a lecture, but clearly luck wasn’t going to be much of a lady tonight. 

“Don’t drink, don’t do any drugs. Don’t let anybody pressure you into anything. Oh, make sure you get enough sleep! When you’re tired, you get grumpy, and you don’t want your roommate to not like you. And try not to be so sarcastic. You want to have friends, right?” He stood in front of her, letting her condescending, careless voice wash over him, like standing under an umbrella in the pouring rain. 

“Okay, okay, okay. Although if you don’t want me to start drinking, maybe you should stop talking right about now.” He muttered the last part under his breath, knowing that she didn’t pay enough attention to him to ever notice. 

“See ya, honey, love you,” his dad told him, folding him into a warm hug. “Ignore her,” he whispered.

“Goodbye, Mom,” Gerard said, adjusting his grip on his suitcase.

“Make sure to text me every day so I know you’re okay, and---”

“Bye, Mom.” Before she could say anything else, Gerard turned and walked into the flow of students heading to their dorms. 

Gerard dragged his suitcase and the box of sketchbooks around the corner, out of sight of his mother, and paused on the sidewalk to glance at the packet he'd received in the mail. Dorm number 238. He fished his key out of his jeans pocket, and headed into the building. The air conditioning was a welcome relief from the heat outside. He never wore short sleeves because of his cuts, so he'd been burning up. He couldn't wait for winter, when no one would question it if he looked a bit pale, or if he never uncovered his arms.

It wasn’t like it mattered, though. He was always cold inside.

Gerard climbed the stairs wearily, just wanting to get into his dorm room, tape a few band posters onto the wall, dig out his current sketchbook, and collapse onto his bed with earbuds. He reached his dorm, and twisted the key in the lock, pushing the door open. When he entered, he saw that his roommate had already arrived and unpacked. Gerard could only see his back, until he turned at the sound of the door, and Gerard almost gasped aloud. Holy fuck, he was hot. His black hair was swept to one side, and he had multiple piercings. There was a scorpion tattoo on his neck, some letters and other designs on his knuckles, and ink twisting up his arms, disappearing up into his sleeves. He was in a fitted black shirt that showed the hints of a thin but toned body, and tight skinny jeans that didn't leave much to the imagination. He was hot in a scary and mysterious way, that Gerard had never seen before.

"Hi, I'm Frank, Frank Iero," he said cheerfully. "I'm new at this school, but I've lived in Belleville all my life."

Gerard stepped farther into the room and shut the door. "I-I'm Gerard Way." He set his bags onto the empty bed.

"I took the one next to the window. I hope you don't mind." 

"That's fine," Gerard said quietly. "I like your tattoos, by the way."

"Oh, thanks. They're all pretty new, about three months old, except for the ones you can't see, which I've had for a year, but I want to get more. Do you have any tattoos?" Frank was looking at him like he was trying to solve a puzzle. Gerard knew he looked familiar, but he couldn't put his finger on it.

"No. I'd love to, but I'm scared of needles." But apparently not blades.

"Your hair is really cool." Gerard reached up to finger a strand of bright red hair, which was almost to his chin but not quite, much longer and a different color than it had been at the beginning of the summer. 

"Thanks." Gerard turned back to his suitcase to start unpacking, and finished in about half an hour. Then, he settled in on his bed and slid his earbuds in, taking out a pencil to start sketching. Frank was on his computer at his desk. He'd gone through two sketchbooks just this summer, twice what he had used last summer. It was becoming an addiction, like the cutting. Whenever he was overwhelmed, if he was around other people he would let his emotions swirl out onto the paper, and if he was alone then he would let them drip out with the blood from his body. 

Everything was changing so quickly. He wished he could go back to the beginning of freshman year, when his body hadn't been a map of his mistakes, when he'd still had hope. Hope that people would like him, or at least not hate him for being him. Hope that he could be normal. Hope that his mother really did care about him, he was just hiding it. It was too much. He got off the bed and yanked his earbuds out, then rifled through one of the drawers of his desk. He knew he'd put them somewhere. Finally, he unearthed an old shoebox, and carefully opened it.

Inside, there were three razor blades, gleaming with a beauty that called to him. Nestled beneath them were bandages, stained cloths, and Band-Aids. With a glance over his shoulder to make sure Frank wasn't looking, he palmed a blade, shoved some bandages and Band-Aids into the pocket of his hoodie, and quickly closed the lid and the drawer, then walked into the bathroom, letting it swing shut behind him and turning the lock. He turned the shower on so Frank wouldn't get suspicious, then he walked up to the large mirror above the sink and shrugged off first his hoodie, and then his t-shirt. 

As he stared at himself in the mirror, it was like looking at a train wreck: it was horrible, but he couldn't wrench his eyes away from the scars on his arms and the lines on his chest and the cuts on his hips. He looked like Frankenstein's monster, patched back together but missing a few pieces so that he could never feel whole. 

He took out his blade and held it up to the mirror, gazing at the light reflected off of it. It was beautiful, in its own sort of way. It whispered to him, called to him. 

He felt one tear slip down his face, and he brought the blade up to a mostly empty spot close to his wrist. The cold metal kissed his skin, and he felt no pain. Not at first. Not in a long while. He watched in fascination as a drop of scarlet blood blossomed out of the cut, and rolled down his arm, falling into the sink. It disappeared down the drain. This cut was just a shallow one, but it was already weeping blood, a stream of it following that one lonely drop. He moved to his other arm and chose a place just below his elbow. This time, he cut deeper, until he could finally feel it. It hurt, but it was the best kind of pain, because it was the only thing left that reminded him that he was still alive. Everything else was numb. 

He'd learned his limits, though. How deep he could cut to avoid bleeding out before the time was right. How far down his arm he could slice without anyone seeing the lines. How much of his true thoughts he could show to his “family” and “friends.”

He only let himself make two more cuts, then he took out the bandages and Band-Aids. Before bandaging his cuts, he braced his hands on the counter and stared at himself in the mirror, feeling like a movie cliche. If only the rest of his life was like that. His hair hung down in his face, limp and tangled, and blood was dripping down his arms, staining his hands, decorating his forehead where he'd brushed his hair back. But worst of all were his eyes, hollow and searching. He looked crazy. Shaking his head before he turned to his blade again, he wrapped a bandage around the deeper two cuts and placed two band aids over each of the shallow ones. He ran the water in the sink until the last of the blood had swirled down the drain, and used a tissue to dry his eyes. Then he stuck his head under the shower for just a second to get his hair wet, and rubbed it with a towel. 

And then he realized how much of an idiot he was. He hadn't brought any clothes with him into the bathroom, and he couldn't go out in the clothes he'd been wearing when he'd come in. Stupid stupid stupid. 

"Uh, Frank?" he called. 

His reply was muffled by the door. "Yeah? What do you need?" 

"I, uh, this is a bit awkward. I forgot to bring clothes with me for my shower. Do you think you could maybe hand me some?" He cringed at his awkwardness.

"Yeah, sure. Where are they?" Frank asked. Gerard heard noises, and assumed that Frank had stood up. 

"Just look in my closet. Maybe a pair of jeans, and a t-shirt? And . . . um . . . a pair of boxers. In the bin on the shelf." His cheeks were flaming, and he thought he heard Frank mutter something unintelligible to himself. There were rummaging sounds, and then a knock on the door. 

Gerard opened it a crack and stood behind it, reaching his hand though the gap. Frank placed the clothes into his hand, then withdrew. "Uh, thanks," he said.

"No problem," Frank said. Gerard could hear the smile in his voice. He dressed quickly, and pulled his hoodie on over his Black Sabbath shirt. He glanced around the bathroom one more time to make sure that there was no blood in the sink or crimson tissues in the garbage or bandages lying on the counter, then stepped back into the room. 

Frank was sitting back in front of his computer, typing away, so Gerard settled back onto his bed. He was about to start sketching again when Frank's voice interrupted him.

"Hey, it's almost dinner time. Wanna go to the cafeteria with me?" Gerard cringed inwardly. The cafeteria would be so crowded, people staring at him from every angle, judging him, expecting him to talk and laugh and act normal. His heart was thundering just think about it, but he didn't want his roommate to think he didn't like him, so he forced a smile.

"Sure, let's go. Just gimme a second.” Gerard got off the bed, and shoved his phone and keys into his pocket. He rummaged frantically through his desk, until he finally found the bottle he was looking for. He slipped it into his pocket and ducked into the bathroom. With shaking hands, he twisted off the cap and shook two pills into his hand, then two more. He downed them all and followed with a quick gulp of water, then hid the bottle of anxiety medicine in the back of the cupboard under the sink. 

Finally, he emerged and nodded to Frank, so the boys headed down the stairs and out into the muggy August evening. Frank took his jacket off, and glanced at Gerard's hoodie, but didn't say anything. Gerard was burning up, but he couldn't let anyone see his arms. He couldn't wait for winter, when he could wear sweaters and jackets and long sleeve shirts all the time and no one would bat an eye. But even now, Gerard wasn't as hot as he should have been. For years, he'd been cold. Ice. He never really thawed, even when he felt hot as fuck on the outside.

But after all these years, he’d learned that nothing was the same on the inside as it was on the outside. Least of all him.

They reached the cafeteria, and joined the streams of other people flowing in. In the line, Frank handed Gerard a plastic tray, and took one for himself. Frank was staring at the food, but Gerard could help but glance around at the ocean of people. Everyone was in their own group, whether it was two friends chatting or a whole table laughing together, and all it did was make Gerard feel even more alone. 

Suddenly he noticed that the line had moved forward, so he grabbed a random sandwich, some kind of potato chips and a bottle of water. They paid for their food and found a table in the corner by a window. The dying evening light streamed in, reflecting off Frank's hair. They both started eating quietly, when suddenly, Frank perked up. "Hey, let's play Twenty Questions."

"What's that?" Gerard asked somewhat apprehensively. 

"I ask you twenty questions about yourself, and then you ask me," Frank explained. Gerard knew he'd have to lie, but three years of lying to everyone close to him had made him a pretty good actor.

"Alright. I'm ready."

"Okay. Favorite color?"

"Black or red."

"Favorite animal?"

"I don't know. Cat, maybe?"

"Any siblings?"

"Just my brother, Mikey. He's a junior."

"What's your biggest fear?"

"Needles. I really want a tattoo, but I'm too scared."

"Favorite thing to do?"

"Drawing."

"How do you feel about your parents?"

Gerard thought about lying, but he didn't really see the point. "To be honest, they're kind of sucky parents. Well, actually, my dad’s nice. He’s just kind of a pushover. My mom’s paranoid, psycho, probably diagnosable, a bitch, and totally overprotective. Almost everything that comes out of her mouth is insulting my dad, criticizing me, bitching about the asshats at work who sound way too similar to her, or complaining about tiny things. And she wasn’t exactly very accepting, either, when I came ou---"

He broke off. Shit shit shit. "When you . . ." Frank prompted.

Gerard shook his head. "I answered the question. Next one."

Frank smiled devilishly. "Fine. Sexual orientation?" 

"I---" Gerard frowned. He could lie about this, but Frank would find out eventually, and he didn't really seem like the type to hate him because of it. Although, apparently Gerard wasn't all that good at judging that, after what had happened with Bob. "I'm gay," he said finally.

"Oh, good," Frank said.

Gerard glanced at him with a furrowed brow. "Good? I thought you'd want a new roommate or something."

"Well, it might help you understand if you knew this tiny little fact: I'm gay, too."

"Really? You are?" Gerard couldn't hide his shock. This was a Catholic boarding school, for fuck’s sake. There were barely enough LGBTQ people to be counted as a minority. Over the years, Gerard had met three here. A gay dude, and two lesbians in four years here, so what were the odds that he'd get a gay roommate instead of just another homophobic asshole.

"Yep. Only difference is, my parents were totally supportive and don't really care."

Gerard was really relieved. He'd been a bit worried that if Frank knew he was gay, then Gerard would lose his only friend here. Also, it was a bit awkward to be lusting after your straight as a ruler roommate, so Gerard was glad that Frank was gay, too. 

"Okay, next question. Have you ever had a boyfriend?"

"No, but . . ." Gerard didn't know whether or not he should tell Frank this, but then he decided it didn't matter. "I . . . I did sleep with two guys I met at concerts."

"Whoa, nice. Did you ever see each other again?"

"Nope."

"Huh. Okay, birthday?"

"April ninth.

"Uh . . . What's your deepest, darkest secret?" 

Gerard paled. There were so many, but none of them were things he could tell Frank, without sending him running for the hills. He absolutely hated himself. He wanted more than anything to just let go. The only thing keeping him here was his brother. He was so fucked up, that he was addicted to cutting himself. If he couldn't cut, sometimes he would get a panic attack, because he was so absolutely reliant on it. Blades were the only things that could silence the voices in his head. He was supposed to be on two prescription antidepressants but he just shoved them in a drawer, unopened and unused since a week after they'd been prescribed. He was taking the anxiety pills, but at twice the rate he should've been, sometimes more if he was really stressed out, which was getting to be more and more often. He was broken, and he didn't think he could ever be fixed.. The list went on and on, but what he finally said was, "I still sleep with a teddy bear."

Frank frowned, clearly knowing that something was wrong, but he started giggling adorably. "Really? What's his name?

"It's---" Gerard broke off as his phone buzzed in his pocket. He dug it out, then groaned. "Shit. I was supposed to meet my brother at the other cafeteria for dinner fifteen minutes ago. Fuck, I totally forgot."

"It's fine, you could still go. It's only a five minute walk from here.”

“You're right. Meet you back at the dorm?"

"Sure. See ya later."

"Bye." Frank waved, and started gathering his trash to throw away as Gerard dumped his into the huge trash can and hurried back outside. Mikey would be pissed, but Gerard knew he would get over it.

Frank POV

After Gerard left, Frank didn't stay at the cafeteria for very long. Instead, he returned to his dorm, and started trying to sort through the some recent photos, but he found that he couldn't concentrate. He was distracted by the memory of an electric boy with electric red hair and electric green eyes, smiling shyly at him and looking up at him through his lush lashes, running a hand through his hair. Frank pictured slim fingers gently holding a pencil, tapping it against his chin as he stared off into space, and couldn't help but wonder what else those hands could do . . . 

Fucking hell. Gerard was his roommate. Frank was not supposed to be thinking those things about his roommate, even if he was hot, sweet, funny, talented, mysterious, adorable, shy, and just . . . Perfect. Frank gave up on trying to get anything done, and decided to just relax with some music. He let AC/DC blare out of his laptop speakers, and laid back on his bed, tucking his hands behind his head. 

Frank knew he'd seen Gerard before. His sharp cheekbones, his beautiful hazel eyes, his pixie nose, his delicate features, they all seemed so familiar, but Frank just could place it. He was like a dream from which he'd just woken up, that was quickly fading, so that he barely remembered dreaming it. 

But when he'd been asking Gerard questions, Frank had seen him hesitate at some, trying to decide whether or not he should tell the truth. Especially when Frank had asked about his biggest secret. A teddy bear? No one with eyes that hollow and a face that closed off didn't have any secrets. But Frank knew not to push. Gerard would tell him when he was ready. 

Gerard returned later that night, and they both say on their beds in companionable silence, Gerard drawing and Frank scrolling through tumblr, until they finally went to bed. Tomorrow, classes would start. Yay . . .

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, thanks for reading! I hope I can post another chapter soon, I've been really busy with school and other fics, but I'll try!  
> Love, Grace

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, hope you liked it! I know this first chapter is kinda shitty, but it gets better, I promise. Also, a lot of this was written and two am as I was spiraling into a black hole of depressed thoughts and existential pondering so it's kinda just word vomit that's slightly edited, so sorry.  
> Love, Grace


End file.
